THE COLOR OF THIS PHOTO HAS NOT BEEN ALTERED.
Note the striking pleated shorts, black tennis shoes, and silver tipped belt.
So, after a VERY long weekend of working as a valet, I finally have a minute to sit down and blog about it. So...I go to blogspot, log in, and discover...."Hmmm...I guess I already did." That damn Ambien! If I didn't love it so much, I'd stop using it. :) As a reader of this blog you may or may not be aware that aside from being devilishly handsome, I also suffer from chronic insomnia (or as my friend Gary Brown calls it....chronic hypochondria). Regardless of which is true (both may be) ...I don't sleep well. Ever. So, quite often I rely on the ever helpful Ambien for sleep. Now we've all heard the crazy stories about people taking Ambien and driving and not remembering it and killing people and not remembering it and that sort of stuff. Well...I am here to tell you ...that it's totally true. While I have yet to murder anyone while on the "A", after I take it, there are generally about 15 minutes that remain unaccounted for. Case in point...blogging. Look back to notice the bad grammar and punctuation errors. Yikes.
Now, here's what's interesting. I don't ever do anything weird. I mean...I just do normal stuff. Send emails, do laundry, make a sandwich. But I truly don't remember doing them. About two months ago, I woke up in the morning (like I do most days), and smelled something strange. (No, this isn't the smothered mouse in the waterbed story.) So I go out into the kitchen to discover..."Hmm....I guess I had some brats last night." I actually took some brats out of the freezer, defrosted them, cooked them in a skillet, put them on a plate, ate them, gave the plate to the dog (I know this because it was on the floor) and soaked the skillet in hot soapy water. Do I remember any of this? No. I didn't leave the stove on. I didn't cut my finger off. I guess I just decided I wanted some brats.
Once on the ship I awoke to an email in my "in" box saying..."Your order has shipped." Ummm....what order? And THUS concludes the story of why I now own adult sized Wheelys.
Back to being a valet.
I LOVE IT. I wasn't sure how I'd feel about it, but I really do enjoy it. Just in the 4 days I've worked, I've discovered some of the ins and outs and the politics and all that stuff. Very odd. But really...It's a great part time job. And since I'm a night owl...working til 4 am isn't such a hard thing.
There's already a handful of amusing tales which are much easier to tell than type. So..I will just share a few of the lessons learned.
I would say about 10% of the cars parked have an open alcohol container in them.
Mercedes Benz smell like Crayola Crayons.
The lock button in BMWs is above the radio.
If a truck pulls up and I am eye level with the grill emblem (true story), we do not valet them.
Straight girls in their 20's all look like hookers.
Occupational hazard..."May get punched in the jaw by some drunk chick doing the arm-ography to Greased Lightnin."
It is possible to get trapped in a Mercedes unable to move for up to 2 full minutes.
The most AMAZING walk of shame is when the guy you hooked up with dumps you on a curb at noon the next day to pick up your car you forgot the night before and you're still wearing your hooker outfit.
So all in all, it's fun. The guys are nice and I get to drive all kinds of cars. Last night we had some rap producer pull up in something called a Maybach. I, of course, thought it looked like a Hyundai, but apparently they cost about $400,000. Who knew?
But the best part of all is that it's like getting paid to do cardio. God knows I don't do it if nobody is paying. There are definitely breaks of time where there's standing around, but there is LOTS and LOTS and LOTS of running. Here's a little math.
I have about 30 runs on a good night. (Run=either pick up or drop off)
Each parking lot is 2 blocks away.
Parking lot is anywhere from 30-50 stairs above or below ground. (Average 40)
So...assuming that a mile is about 12 city blocks, and each story of a building is 10 feet, and that the average stair is 8" high... then in the course of an evening, I run about 5 miles and climb to the top of an 80 story building.
Of course every morning I can barely walk, but in the end, I'm happy I'm doing it. I've heard exercise is good for you. My mom always tells me that. Of course she might just now be feeling guilty about giving me a giant bowl of ice cream after school EVERY day for 18 years. Who knows?
That's it for me. I'm pooped. I think I'll go visit sleepytime. Goodnight.
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